Rexrider (First World's End Book 1)

by Mark Angel

  The festive spread in front of them featured foods and garnishes representing elements of the season. Roasted seeds signified planting time. Edible flowers and leaves were emblematic of the first blooms of the rainy season—even though at this point the season was still more hope than reality. Foods especially key to this seasonal festival included several varieties of baked eggs emblematic of the rebirth of the Servant Star. This sacred turn, as proclaimed by the skywatchers, celebrated an event that took place about twice in any three sars.

  There was cold-smoked fish with bitter herbs and brine dip and all kinds of other fresh relishes to go with the meal, all of it accompanied by deeply colored redberry wine.

  Meera returned with a large tortoise-shell serving bowl with savory dumplings floating in turtle broth. Then Tyna made her first appearance to the group, following her hostess out with the crispy, hot bread.

  “I’m Tyna,” she offered a courteous but shallow bow to Jenay, and placed the loaves on the table. She still wore her apron and was careful not to turn her back on the guests or expose too much skin, a change in temperament from when she had first arrived.

  Jenay began to stand, but Tyna waved her down casually. The she-rexrider took the last empty seat next to Tamik and directly across from the smuggler.

  “I could use a nice glass of spirits,” Tyna declared almost imploringly.

  Rudanomi passed her the flask and a small glass.

  “I’m Jenay,” the smuggler offered in reply to Tyna’s self-introduction.

  “How can you look so lovely after traipsing through the canyons in such weather?” Tyna asked with more than a degree of sincerity. She passed a loaf of bread to Rudanomi.

  Jenay reddened. “Actually, I thought I looked a bit of a mess.”

  Tyna shook her head. “A little wind-blown, maybe, but otherwise quite attractive.”

  Jenay flushed. “Thanks, I guess.”

  Tyna smiled at the smuggler as she spoke, and at the same time she inconspicuously placed her hand on Tamik’s leg; he nearly leaped out of his leathers. It was not the reaction she had expected and she glanced around the table to see if anyone else had noticed, unconsciously placing her hand on her chin. Once she sensed no one had noticed, her hand found her glass.

  Meera covered her head with her new scarf and lit the two beeswax candles in the center of the table. As she gathered their light to her face, she recited, “May the light of Manifestation be shed upon us and all Rexians, and may what we have been given here fill us all with Spirit as well as sustain our bodies.”

  “With Spirit,” Rudonomi said.

  “With Spirit,” all echoed softly.

  Rudanomi took a fresh loaf of egg bread baked with onions, herbs and nuts. He tore it in two, and then passed half of the loaf to Jenay, who tore off a piece for herself before passing it around the table. After all had received a share, Rudanomi took his portion of bread in one hand and his glass of wine in the other and held them up. He closed his eyes, the others following suit. With a resonant voice he said, “Thank Mystery for this food, which Meera has laid on our table, and for the variety of life that was sacrificed to provide us with this sustenance. May the hunt succeed, may the crops grow tall, may the wilds be content in their wilderness, and may the Spirit of Mystery fill us and all Rexians with joy.”

  Rudanomi then looked at Jenay, inviting her to speak as an honored guest.

  “Full of Spirit is Divine Mystery, who has brought me safely to Stonehaven where I now sit among new friends,” she said.

  Tyna added with sincere reverence, “Thank Mystery for guiding and protecting those of us who travel the wilderness in the service of Rex. May we all be so fortunate as to be called back to Mystery in as noble a way as this brave smuggler’s mother.”

  “With Spirit,” Jenay responded, her eyes glistening.

  The others repeated the doxology and they all drank deeply to seal the sentiment.

  After a moment of silence had passed, Rudanomi spoke again. “Meera, you have, once again, truly outdone yourself,” he said, surveying the embarrassment of riches on the table.

  His next words were more formal.

  “It is traditional to speak of the travels of the Servant Star during this celebration of its transition. For 54 turns—since the Servant Star left the dawn sky—Rexians have observed the period of Light-Fast, a time where all healthy adults refrain from eating solid food during the light time of the turn until the Servant Star is reborn to the dusk horizon. For if the Sun has no helper, must it not fast?” His words were appropriately traditional, but his inflection was fraught with something verging on cynicism.

  "Out of deference to the Sun’s hardship, Rexians fast while the sun is alone in the sky. And, in imitation of the Servant Star’s time away, neither man nor woman is required to serve their masters during the light time of those same 54 turns.”

  Rudanomi’s objections to servitude were well known among all present except Jenay. And his recital of the traditional story continued to tell the origins of the sacred turn with more detail than most families had to put up with.

  Finally Meera interrupted. “Enough of the traditions, I think we all know what comes next.”

  “Food?” Pirlan asked with unbridled sincerity.

  “Quite right, young man,” Pako answered. Again the room broke out into laughter, and again Pirlan looked to be oblivious to his surroundings as he dug into his soup.

  When it was time for the meat, Tamik helped Tyna bring out the skewers of brazed skaw loin and roasted tubers. No words passed between them, only the chatty chirps coming off of Tamik’s leathers. As they reentered the eatingroom with the main dish, Pako spoke out again.

  “You expecting a pack of raptors, or sporting all that steel just to cut the meat?”

  A pregnant silence descended upon the room, one Tamik waited as long as possible to break. And when he and Tyna were ready to serve Pako, he used the same dagger that had long ago ended the life of his own grandfather to cut flesh for the older rexrider’s plate. “I am first a rexrider,” he then said resolutely, “but I am also a Senior Guardian. You will find I take the duties of each post very seriously.”

  “Well met, Brother,” Rudanomi guffawed, as the tension melted.

  Spirits remained high, and conversation flowed freely. Jenay spoke of her home and family at Riverford Station and of what she knew about her mother’s call to Mystery.

  Tamik was surprised to learn that the smugglers viewed service to the kith, and death, in much the same way as rexriders and guardians. It made him feel comfortable enough to finally speak about the hunt and how Almar had found the sword and given it to him to replace the one broken in their little competition. Tyna and Melok interjected some of the details. Tamik also recounted his mystifying interactions with the Seer.

  “That can’t be,” she protested when Tamik revealed the words the old man had related to him. “We didn't know ourselves that she was missing until several turns after that.”

  “Our local Seer is not an ordinary soothsayer,” Rudanomi said, but did not expound further and nobody asked.

  After a brief pause, Jenay continued, “Well, we certainly do appreciate having my mother’s short-sword back,” she said. “And it seems in better condition than I ever remember seeing it. Did you have it refurbished at the smith’s shop?”

  “Actually, I did it myself,” Tamik said modestly. “One of the first things a guardian learns is how to maintain his weapons.”

  “My brother is quite the guardian,” Meera added. “He takes his duty to the sword more seriously than most guardians, and far more seriously than any rexrider I know.”

  “I just wish he had as much passion for his beast,” Melok said somewhat dourly considering the combination of spirits and medication he had within him. But his reference to Gar-rex as belonging to Tamik now, did not go unnoticed by most of those present.

  “Father, I take my rexrider duties very seriously,” Tamik protested, and adjusted his leat
hers noisily.

  “Perhaps,” Melok continued. He directed his next statement to Jenay, “But you can probably shave with that blade, if that's any indication of his commitment to the sword, while his beast is probably out there right now at risk of expulsion.”

  “I don’t think she needs a shave, Appa,” Tamik said spitefully.

  Jenay laughed. “Don’t worry. My father has it now and may shave with it if he so desires.”

  After that, conversation turned to the mundane and upon finishing the meal, all retired to the large and comfortable salon. Rudanomi took his usual chair. Melok rested on the lounger near Pako. Jenay sat in a reading chair across from Tamik and Tyna, who shared a cushioned bench, and the boys sat on a rug near the fire. Though there were plenty of places to choose from, Meera busied herself with preparing and serving tea to all her guests, declining offers of assistance.

  Rudanomi quizzed Jenay for more particulars about the situation among the wild rexes, as she had just come from the Smuggler’s Compound, the hub of information. The rexriders present were also eager to hear what she had to report, and Tamik added what he had heard at the Guardians’ Lodge from Sortan. What was shaping up was an unpredictable situation that would bode ill for the Western Clan if the rains did not come in earnest very soon. Only Pirlan seemed less than captivated with such talk, as he incessantly pestered Meera for “more stuffed pastries.”

  When as much as possible had been eaten and said, all grew silent and only the crackling fire could be heard. The quiet comfort spoke to the contentment that the feast had induced. Jenay broke the mood by finally rising to her feet.

  “I really must get back to my grandfather’s dwelling. It would not be proper to arrive past sleeptime. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Meera.”

  “You are most welcome, Jenay, any time.” Meera took the smuggler’s outstretched hands and they pressed noses warmly.

  “My mother’s father is a wonderful cook, so I am accustomed to good food,” Jenay added. “But this truly was one of the most splendid meals I have ever eaten. Thank you for including me. I am glad to have met you all and will pass your regards onto my family.”

  Then she turned to Tamik and nodded to him gracefully, “Again, I can’t thank you enough for returning the sword. It was a noble thing to do.”

  Tamik blushed slightly, “Anyone would have done the same.”

  Jenay shook her head, “No, not anyone, but it is something that I would expect of an honorable Senior Guardian, or rexrider,” she added the latter with only the slightest of awkward hesitations.

  Tyna stepped toward Jenay. “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind.” She had finally removed her apron, hung it in the cookroom and now moved to collect her outerwear.

  Jenay saluted Rudanomi, Melok and Pako, and then hugged the boys.

  The young women left the salon on their way to the front door, where Tyna surprised Jenay by whispering, “That Tamik is very handsome and charming don’t you think?”

  Jenay cocked her head and furrowed slightly.

  “He’s not seeing anyone in particular, you know,” Tyna added unsolicited.

  “Excuse me?” Jenay was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation.

  Tyna realized at that moment that she had been hitting the redberry wine with too much gusto during the meal and probably reeked of its ferment. But she knew she had willfully overindulged to curb the edge off feelings that had emerged over the course of the evening. She realized that her renewed relationship with Tamik was only really ever going to be a whim. Jenay, on the other hand, might make an excellent match for him, and Tyna felt obligated to help bring the two together, even if she was currently fumbling in her execution of that self-determined obligation, and at risk of appearing the fool.

  ***

  “I really should get on, too,” Tamik said, standing up. He was carefull to avoid any unseemly noise, and quite certain he did not want to leave Tyna alone with the smuggler for too long.

  “No doubt you will,” Pako snorted.

  Tamik ignored the remark and caught up with the women at the door. Tyna realized she would not be able to speak freely and in private with the smuggler, so she resolved to accept that fact as perhaps for the best.

  She and Tamik escorted Jenay back to the Smuggler’s Compound, and then Tamik walked Tyna home. They did not speak to each other until they were at Tyna’s door.

  Tamik moved to kiss her cheek in parting, but then she spoke. “Are you going back to your father’s lonely place, or will you stay and keep me company?”

  She was radiant in the lamp light, and remained all he had ever hoped she would be and more, so he followed her in.

  Somewhere midst the rubble of space

  A bolide kissed a comet’s face.

  In tumbling past they both engaged,

  And thus begat the end of an age.

  — Kalikanuma

  19. Awake!

  Southern cliffs of Kazak Valley before dawn, 1/02/1643—

  Raitanu had fair skin like most members of the Order of Skywatchers, and long black hair, but her young hands were calloused from harsh labor and her skin was stretched tight over sinewy muscles. Unlike her cousins who lived up in the Skywatchers’ Compound overlooking the Stonehaven, Raitanu lived outside the more populous inner citadel, among the cliffs at the southwest edge of the Inner Paddock. She did not have help carrying out the duties most skywatchers left to people of lesser orders, but she would never complain about it, especially not to her father.

  She tapped on his sleeproom door. When there was no audible response, she pushed it open.

  “Appa?”

  She slipped into the dank room and placed a cup of freshly brewed botes on the windowsill. It left a steamy pattern of condensation on the crude pane of bubbly glass. Through the window, she glimpsed the Kazak Valley Drop-off, and the expansive sea that spread out beyond the base of those cliffs. Beyond that, the waning gibbous moon reflected off the barren peaks of the distant Western Range.

  Raitanu turned back to observe her father, Kalikanuma, known to most as the Seer. At first she thought he was sleeping soundly in his normal upright position on his bed, but when she touched his cheek it was pallid and clammy. She caught the foul whiff of powder, and dread seized her. The white drug, a secret potion formulated by her ancestors and passed down through the sars to her father, was used to induce deep visional trances, a risky practice for one of ailing health. The potion was said to have been crafted out of pure gold dust and some other plants and minerals by Pilots, the six-toed ancestors of the skywatchers, who were said to have brought the Ancients to this planet by navigating through the Beyond of space. Raitanu found it a wondrous story; some called it myth.

  She squeezed her father’s shoulder.

  “Appa?”

  She shook him again, more forcefully.

  “Appa, wake up!”

  Still her father did not move.

  “Appa!” she shrieked, dropping her cheek to his bushy face, hoping to feel his breath on her bare skin.

  Nothing.

  “You old fool.” She shook him again. “You took more than you could handle!”

  Raitanu pulled him off his bed onto the stone floor and tilted his head back. Then she exhaled into her father’s mouth, holding his nose to prevent air from escaping there. “Do not dare leave me here alone!” she cried, and blew several more vital breaths into his mouth. “Scorch you!” She put her fingers to the thick vessel in his neck, but could not feel his blood pumping. “I am not ready for this! Wake up!”

  Using her extraordinarily disciplined mind, she focused her intent on reviving him, thumping his chest forcefully with the fleshy part of her fist. After several attempts to shock his heart back into rhythm, she put her fingers to his throat. His heart pumped feebly. Again a breath into his mouth, and an ear to his lips . . . and a shallow wind brushed against her skin. She lightly placed her left hand on his forehead and her right upon his chest.

  �
��Good, Appa. Breathe.”

  Now Kalikanuma seemed at peace, but Raitanu dared not leave him to summon help. There was every chance that he might stop breathing again. And anyway, she doubted anyone nearby was better trained to help him than she. Her father had taught her how to handle this and other health crises when she was a girl, and though her skill had never been needed to assist him until now, she and her father had helped many others many times in many different ways.

  She waited for him to regain consciousness, staring at the condensation that still formed at the corner of the sleeproom window where the mug of botes sat. He would need the steaming stimulant when he finally did awaken from his vision, but she knew, for now, his mind was far away in time. Or space. Or both.

  ***

  Dungfires smolder throughout the community of Southend Drainage near the southwestern corner of the inner paddock of Kazak Valley. The musky smoke wafts through the gaps around Kalikanuma’s closed sleeproom window. The pungency surrounds him as he gazes down upon his withered body resting under the warm skin-cove. For awhile his body is in a state of total relaxation, and then his spirit rises toward the domed ceiling. He has achieved lucidity so he knows that he is dreaming, and is permitting his dream-self to be guided by Mystery, a force familiar to him yet unknowable. He sees his daughter, Raitanu, sitting attentively beside his body, safeguarding his corporeal existence. She was right to come to him and he was wrong to attempt this without her. He knows that now, and now it no longer matters.

  Kalikanuma passes through the vaulted stonework ceiling of his hovel, and then sees his abode beneath him. It is located in one of several shabby settlements that accommodate Outsiders within the area protected by the great perimeter wall. From above, the settlement looks like an aggregation of steaming termite mounds. Cone-shaped roofs crown each; identical trickles of smoke emanating from each generate the oddly comforting aroma.

  This is a rustic community, and as such it includes dung collectors, miners, calasheers, woodcutters, and Kalikanuma, servant of Mystery, known by some as the noblest of the ignoble, and one of a small number of Outsiders who are actually prohibited from entering the inner city.